The apartment is quiet and lonely. I’ve never lived alone… truly alone. No pets, no near by friends. Today, I caught myself cruising the dog pound’s web site.
I got my last dog at the pound. It was closing of the day before she was scheduled for euthanasia. She was covered in tics, and had an instant attachment to me, as I was the one who sprang her from that place. They had sprayed her concrete floored kennel with her in it, and she continues to be afraid of water to this day. When I got a place in the city, I left her with my parents on their thirty acre farm. City life would kill Leila, as she needs to run free, hunt moles, and dig. I see her all the time, but she whines with joy when I arrive, and mopes when I leave.
I feel guilt that I am looking for a suitable dog for this new living situation. I’ve lived here for nearly a year. It’s like contemplating cheating, but I saw a terrier mix available at the pound I got Leila at. I’d be saving him from hell if I got him.